Page 36 of The Eraser

She swallows hard, her fingers dancing along the edge of a scar on her thigh. "Please," she whispers. "Don't ask."

Fuck that. Someone has hurt her. This isn't just an accidental burn. This is horrendous torture, something you'd do to your worst enemy.

She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the floor before meeting mine again through the mirror. The raw pain in her expression tears at my insides, demanding justice. "It was Dad," she confesses in a voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking his name aloud would summon the devil himself.

Christ, I knew her father was a fucking bastard. I knew he’d hurt her. But I never thought he could be this cruel to his own daughter.

Rage surges through me like a tidal wave, threatening to drown out all reason and restraint. Every fiber of my being is screaming for retribution, for vengeance against the one who dared to mar her perfect skin with such savagery. But as I step closer to her, I can see that she’s shaking. She’s terrified.

I see the fear in her eyes and know that my next actions have to be calculated and deliberate.

"Little Dancer, you don't have to be afraid anymore," I assure her, my voice firm with resolve. "I will make sure he never lays a finger on you again.” He’s dead. The moment I see that cunt, I’m going to kill him, and I’ll enjoy every motherfucking second of it.

"How?" she asks softly. "He's sworn that I'll never be free of him."

I reach for her, pulling her into my arms and holding her tight. The rage that I feel deep inside vibrates throughout my body. It's taking every ounce of restraint that I have to stay here and not go hunting.

She's trembling against me. The fear she has is palpable. "I never wanted anyone to know," she says quietly. She's crying. I can feel her tears soaking through my tee. Yet another thing that Thomas will pay for. Her tears are tearing me apart. I fucking hate them.

"They look bad," I say through clenched teeth, my fingers skimming along the rough scars. "But they're cleaned. Who cleaned you up? Who helped you afterward?"

She burrows further into my chest. "Mallory," she whispers. "She was the only one I could trust. Her mam works a lot, so she was able to help me recover. It was bad. I thought I was going to die."

Christ. Thomas is a fucking cunt.

"I'm hideous," she cries, her fingers clenching into my tee.

I pull her back slightly, her fingers not releasing me. "The scars are like badges. They show just how fucking strong you are. You are and have always been gorgeous, Jess." I frame her face, needing her to realize just how beautiful she truly fucking is. "Your scars do not define you. They do not make you hideous. You are the most beautiful woman in the world." I'm not bullshitting her. The second I saw her, she took my breath away. Finding out she was fourteen was the only thing that kept me from claiming her. Never, not fucking ever, has anyone captured my attention the way Jessica did.

A small laugh escapes her. "You're crazy," she says, but I see the smile tugging at her lips. "I really don't know what to do, Stephen. What if he comes for me like he promised?"

I press my lips against hers, no longer having to hold back. She sinks against me as I deepen the kiss. Fuck, she's so fucking perfect, and she has no idea just how beautiful she is. Innocent, pure, and so damn fucking sweet. And now she's all mine.

I pull back and rest my forehead against hers, drinking in her scent. Christ, having her here has settled something inside of me. I feel at peace, something I haven't felt before. For four years I've felt the pull towards the woman in my arms, and in those years I've felt unrest, but now everything is just as it's meant to be.

"Get dressed, baby," I say thickly. "Maverick and Freddie are waiting for us. We're going to have a talk, and we're going to need to know everything."

Her face pales and her eyes close. She's scared, I get it, but we need to know everything in order to protect her.

"It'll be okay," I assure her. "He has no idea where you are, and only the four of us in this house know this house exists." I did that for a reason. I needed to ensure that when it was time to have Jess, my home was ready.

"Did you buy the house as it is?" she asks as she reaches for the leggings. Gone is the shyness she had when I entered the room. "I mean, it's not something I imagined you'd choose."

"Do you like it?" I ask. If she doesn’t, I’ll have it remodeled however she wants it.

She grins up at me. "It's amazing. I love it. Although I haven't seen more than the bedroom and bathroom."

I smirk. "That's all you'll need," I laugh. "But I'm glad. I picked everything out with you in mind."

She shakes her head. “You were so certain about me being with you, weren't you?"

She has no idea just how certain I was about her being mine. "I'm not a man who doesn't get his own way. I've known since the moment we kissed that you wanted me just as much as I wanted you. But I'm not an easy man, Little Dancer. I'm fucking far from it. I'm going to be overprotective and in your space, but I won't ever hurt you."

She swallows hard. "I know," she says, her voice filled with so much clarity. "I've always felt safe around you. Ironic, isn't it? I watched you beat a man to death?—"

"He shouldn't have fucking touched you," I snarl, still pissed that the cunt didn't heed my warning when I told him to stay the fuck away from her.

She sighs. "You're a killer, right? I mean, that's who you are?"

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